


Strange Bedfellows

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Drug Abuse, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Misogyny, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Oral Sex, Slash, m/m - Freeform, rough oral, understanding Pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially, I started this one because I wanted to see if I could write Tony and Clint together.  This is the story of them seeing each other in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barton’s doing it again. He’s downstairs with Natasha kicking the shit out of each other. The thing is that Barton makes noises, almost sex noises, when he’s fighting her. He also likes to fight in a tank top and tactical pants. This shouldn’t get Tony hard, but it does. He’s watching with a drink in his hand as they go a couple of rounds, Natasha ending it by almost choking Barton out with her thighs. She hops up at the end and offers her hand to Clint. He pretends to take it to get up but pulls Natasha down on him. They roll around a minute, struggling, but Natasha’s laughing. Tony can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen the woman smile let ALONE laugh. 

They both got up and Tony retreated, filling his glass again. Pepper would bitch at him for drinking too much too early, and she’d be right to. Still, he added another finger before he heard them come up the stairs behind him. “… we said best two out of three.”

“Three out of five,” Natasha countered. “But it’s ok if you’re tired.” 

“Three out of five what,” Tony asked. He immediately regretted opening his mouth because it meant he had to turn and look at them. And right now looking at them meant that he got to see how swollen Barton’s biceps were and how tight the tank was over his chest. Tony would get this way, become utterly infatuated with people he didn’t understand and Tony really didn’t understand Clint Barton. 

“Rounds,” Clint said, clarifying nothing as he hopped up to sit on the counter next to where Tony was standing. He could feel the heat pouring off of Barton and the manly sort of funk that hung on him caught Tony totally off guard. Pepper understood that he had urges and appetites that she couldn’t quite fulfill sometimes, so they had an agreement that as long as he was safe and discrete, they were fine. “Tell her that 2/3 is better, Mr. Math.” Barton’s hand clasped around Tony’s shoulder tightly, drumming over his clavicle. 

“We’re not going to talk math. We’re talking trials, Barton and you know it.” Clint was now leaning his forearm on Tony’s shoulder, putting some weight on him. Tony saw a look cross Natasha’s face. It was there for a split second and gone. What was that? “Cook something. I’m going to shower,” she told Clint before heading toward her room. Tony had made sure this part of the tower had rooms for all of them, private and individual. That meant Clint could have gone back to his. Instead he sat on the counter and drank his water, stretching and being all shiny. 

“You hungry,” Clint asked Tony. 

“Jarvis and Dum-E can take care of it, just tell them what you want. We do have chefs, too.” Tony finished his glass and filled it again, finally feeling the calm he had been chasing. He offered it to Clint who shrugged and took a belt from the bottle, horrifying Tony. 

“Nope, we’re going to cook something.” He looked around before hopping off the counter to walk past Tony to the fridge. Clint’s back was a thing of beauty, wide and strong with this tension to it that had Tony thinking about licking Clint’s spine. “She likes pasta. There are vegetables,” he pointed out. “Put some oil in a pan.” 

Tony stared at Clint, opening his mouth to argue before going to find a pan. “Why do you want to do this when there are people who can do it for you?” 

“You could pay someone to wipe your ass, but it’s not like I want that either. Cooking’s good for the soul and this place is always packed with good, organic food. How am I going to resist that?” Clint bumped his elbow into Tony’s arm. “Hope there’s some garlic.” Tony watched Clint fish around all over the kitchen, pulling out a little of this and a little of that. 

“You actually know how to cook, don’t you?” Tony was fascinated. Somehow he didn’t think that there would be time for Cold Appetizers 101 in Assassin school. 

“It’s not rocket science. Meat,” Clint fished out some chicken and found a mallet. Tony was going to die. He watched in total fascination as Clint pounded the chicken out under plastic wrap, making it thin before tossing it in something and then into the pan with hot oil. “Can you chop things?” Tony looked at the mushrooms and peppers Clint had pulled out. 

“I’m not really…” But Clint was pushing a knife into Tony’s hand, not letting him even finish his excuse. 

Tony went to start slicing and Clint shook his head. “Wash the stuff first. Mushrooms are different, don’t run them under the water or they get slimy. Get a damp cloth and brush them clean.” 

“You some sort of Food Network star or something… brush them clean,” Tony joked. 

“No, I just don’t want to eat clumps of dirt. Plus…trial and error. It’s not like anyone’s ever cooked for me a whole lot.” Clint was working with some pasta from the fridge, looking over the instructions as he absently flipped the flattened chicken breast. “Can you handle boiling water, then?” Tony rolled his eyes but got up and found a deep pan to fill with water. “How many degrees do you have and you can’t chop a pepper?” Tony was about to say something, but he watched Clint decimate both peppers, five cloves of garlic, and a whole pint of mushrooms in less than three minutes, all while teasing Tony about being book smart, not street smart. 

“And since when has being able to chop a pepper been street smarts?” 

“Since the time you want to eat and don’t have a butler,” Clint pointed out a little sharply. “i know you made it in that cave, but without people around to take care of you, you’d implode.” It hurt and Tony turned away, bringing the pot of water to the stove. He wasn’t acting like a wounded child, Tony told himself a dozen times but found himself pouting. “Guy like you, though, it’s good you have someone to remind you to eat. All those big ideas take most of your time, I guess.” 

Tony appreciated that Clint recognized how smart he was. That meant something in Tony’s eyes and he just helped, keeping his snark to himself. Mostly. Clint threw in the peppers and the oil started to pop, resulting in several specks hitting Tony’s arm. “Damn,” he pulled it back, blowing on the red dots. Clint took his other arm and pulled him to the sink, turning on the tap and putting Tony’s arm under cold water. 

“Stay there for the next few minutes. Let it run.” Clint found a clean towel and got it wet from the water running around Tony’s arm down the drain. Clint stood close and Tony focused in on the smell of the other man more than he had before. It was strong and very masculine, something Tony was tucking away for when he got a couple of minutes to himself. Right now, though, Clint was wrapping Tony’s arm in a cold towel, then wrapping plastic wrap around that. 

“You have a thing for plastic wrap,” Tony commented. 

“It’s multi use,” Clint shrugged. “Plus, I’m on board with anything I can kill someone with that’s going to cost me less than five bucks.” Clint demonstrated how hard it was to get through plastic wrap that was layered four thick. “Get the right angle and….”   
“I get the picture,” Tony put up his hand and shook his head. “No need to demonstrate.” 

“I would have thought you were an autoerotic asphyxiation kind of guy. Nat said it works really well.” Tony’s brows knitted. “She’s used it on partners. Ask her to tell you about the long blond wig and Madame Hydra. Just be prepared to walk out of there a little funny,” he winked. Clint continued to work on the food, timing it to be done only few minutes after Natasha showed back up in the kitchen damp and pink. “You agree with me on plastic wrap, right?”

Natasha nodded. “I’ve used it a number of ways. Not very useful in a murder scene. I prefer Visqueen for that.” Tony listened to them debate the uses of various plastic wraps and plastic liners while they worked through Clint’s meal. It was good. It was actually really good. Clint hadn’t had a recipe or even known what was around. 

“Mmmmm. Wine?” Natasha nodded.

“You never have to ask me if I want liquor,” Tony told Clint. He watched the man get up, eyes focused on the way his tank top had ridden up in back. Clint had those things, those divots above the hip bones. That wasn’t right. He gratefully took the wine after Clint popped the cork, waiting for glasses. 

Clint poured and passed out glasses and raised his. “To plastic wrap.” They raised their glasses and Tony just went along. How had Clint brought him up so short? Tony hadn’t been this tongue tied and twitter pated since he and Pepper first started. They ate, joking around and having to watch as Natasha stole bites from their plates. “Next time I’ll do more meat.” 

Natasha looked up with a wicked smile, raising her brow. “That’s what she said.”


	2. Chapter 2

“He wants to jump your bones,” Natasha told Clint cooly as she laid on his bed watching him change. “I bet he’s a bottom, too.” 

“Nat,” Clint said sharply. “Don’t you have a diplomat to seduce?” Natasha had been teasing him for the past ten minutes about Tony staring at him today over lunch. 

“She can wait. This is more important. I think you should do him.” She rolled over, stretching her arms up, hands pointed to grab her ankles and stretch. She was back in gym clothes, an apparent kink for this particular diplomat. “It’s been forever since you’ve had sex.”

“You don’t know that.” She raised her eyebrow. “Fine, you do, but it’s not like I can’t take care of business myself.” 

“What fun is that? I bet that beard would feel great if he just spread your…”

“Nat!” Clint blushed deeply. She never seemed to understand why Clint got a little embarrassed when they discussed sex. 

“Come on, Clint.” She turned her head then hopped up out of bed. “Unless you want to take a spin with me.” Clint’s arm wrapped around her and he picked Natasha up so she could wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

“You know that’s always on the table, Nat.” He squeezed her ass then threw her on the bed. “But you’ve got work to do.” She frowned and rolled off, giving him the finger then kissing him on the cheek before she left. Clint considered what Nat was saying as he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d thrown on a t-shirt and jeans, but he was actually checking himself out. It _had_ been a long time, but Stark really wasn’t his type. That didn’t mean he didn’t think Tony was attractive, he was just rich and rich was not compatible with a guy like Clint Barton. 

Clint headed out to the common area, flopping back on the sofa with a beer and his X-Box controller. He called up BioShock Infinite and started to play. Time passed, the lights changed, Clint drank and played. No one else was around for the first couple of hours, so Clint didn’t bother putting the headphones on. Instead he played it loud over the speakers, swearing at the screen as he worked his way through a six pack. He took a break for awhile, turning on the History Channel. He watched a documentary on Thomas Jefferson as he flipped through headlines on his tablet. Clint really wasn’t paying attention and when Tony came in behind him, clearing his throat and scaring the crap out of Clint. He rolled, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing his gun from where he’d tucked it under the couch cushion.

“Jesus Christ… Barton, it’s me. Fuck!” Clint’s eyes were wild and he took a moment to watch Tony grasp his chest, fingers blocking the blue light from his arc reactor. “… note to self, don’t startle a spy.” Tony looked at the empties on the table. “Drinking alone?” 

Clint looked around and gestured to the empty space, “it’s just me, Ant Man, Wasp, and She-Hulk.” His tone was sarcastic, but a little slurred. “Wanna play GTA?” Tony sat down near Clint, picking up an extra controller while Clint grabbed another six pack. He opened a bottle and handed it off to Tony before opening his own. He grabbed himself and smirked at Tony. “Gotta drain the hose. Get us started.” Clint took his beer with him, having half of it on the way to the bathroom. 

When he got back, he saw that Tony was already playing. Clint hopped over the back of the sofa and flopped down right next to Stark hard enough to bounce the guy. “You’re behind.” And that was the only thing either of them said outside of smack talk for the rest of the six pack. By that point, Clint was blindingly drunk. They took a break for Clint to put together sandwiches, Tony surfing until he found something he wanted to watch. It ended up being some comedic drama about private investigators. Clint half watched as he put together giant sandwiches with every kind of meat that was in the fridge. 

“Chips, chips, chips, chips,” Clint chanted as he opened and closed cabinets. He found them and launched two bags at Tony. “Incoming.” Clint brought over the jar of pickles and their sandwiches, sitting back to watch the movie. It was good, funny, and it had a hot actress who wore short dresses. Clint was into it. They finished their sandwiches and Clint sat back with chips, setting the bag in his lap, a beer in his hand. “What an ass,” Clint nodded at the woman’s backside as she bent over a desk. 

“Just wait,” Tony told Clint. Within a minute, the woman’s skirt was pulled up over her ass to display that it’s rounded, firm glory. 

Clint groaned a little. “That’s the kind of ass you can sink your teeth into,” Clint said idly as he shifted himself in his pants. 

“Agreed. And her rack’s not bad either.” The two of them talked about the actress and Clint started to get hard. Later in the movie, there was a sex scene that had Clint shifting to hide himself. When Tony reached over to touch his thigh, Clint glanced his way. Tony’s hand moved a little more, fingers running up the inseam of Clint’s jeans. He didn’t say anything, just moved his hand to rub Clint through his jeans, eyes moving back to the movie. Tony was getting hard, too, but Clint just sat back so he could see where this went. 

Tony didn’t stop, moving his hand to the button of Clint’s jeans. He was moving, surprising the hell out of Clint when Tony got to his knees between Clint’s legs. The man’s hands moved up over the insides of Clint’s thighs, as he mouthed the length of Clint’s cock through the denim. He groaned and reached down to run his fingers through Tony’s hair. It was on the longer side and Clint gave it a little pull, getting Tony to look up at him. It was the first time Clint noticed just how long Tony’s eyelashes were. Clint let go and raised his hips, pushing his jeans down. Tony groaned and shoved them the rest of the way down so Clint could kick them off. 

He opened his legs and Tony leaned forward to suck at him through the fabric. Clint had put on a pair of dark purple and black boxer briefs, but soon enough the purple over his cock was even deeper. Tony ran his cheek over the inside of Clint’s thigh, rubbing surprisingly soft beard hair on his thigh. “Big,” Tony groaned as he squeezed Clint’s cock. Clint just pushed Tony’s face toward his groin and the guy seemed to get the message. Clint pulled his t-shirt off, dropping it next to Tony as the man pulled Clint out of his boxer briefs and into the cool air. Tony’s eyes darted from Clint’s eyes to his cock a couple of times before he leaned in. 

Tony moved fast, aggressively, and soon enough Clint was groaning for the man. Clint could see Tony’s arm moving, clearly jerking himself off as he sucked on Clint’s balls. “You wanna fuck me?” Clint was surprised by the earnestness in the question. He stood up, pushing his way past Tony in not a stitch of clothing. He looked around the kitchen area a minute and grabbed the olive oil. Tony had climbed onto the couch after getting totally naked in record time. Clint had to give it to the guy, he had a nice ass. It was high and tight, not to mention the fact that it was swaying back and forth like Tony was trying to hypnotize Clint. 

Clint’s hands ran up the back of Tony’s thighs, spreading them as he leaned over to set the oil on the table. “Knew you were a bottom,” Clint growled as he ran slick fingers up Tony’s crack. He took a few moments playing with his hole just because he could. They weren’t in a huge rush, but it wasn’t like Clint was going to linger. Two fingers later, he had Tony panting and reaching underneath to pull on his balls. By the time three were inside the man, he was demanding Clint stop teasing. Less than thirty seconds later and Tony was growling as Clint pushed in. 

“F…uck that’s big,” Tony said as his head tipped down to press into the back of the sofa. Tony was incredibly tight, squeezing down around Clint like a fucking vice. “Keep going,” he told Clint when he was ready to move on. Clint took Tony’s direction, figuring out quickly that while Tony was a bottom, maybe he didn’t do it so often. Tony looked over his shoulder at Clint, face screwed up tight. Clint paused. “Don’t stop.” Tony reached back and grabbed Clint’s thighs, pulling him in tight. 

Clint took that as his mantra and started to move. Before long, Tony was taking him like a champ, crying out Clint’s name as he clawed the back of the sofa. Clint licked a line up his sweaty spine as he reached up to stroke the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck. His fingers carded through it backward until he got a handful. Clint pulled at it, using his other hand to urge Tony up onto his knees and off the back of the sofa. Clint started really fucking up into him and Tony pushed his back into Clint’s chest, his head falling onto Clint’s shoulder. His eyes were shut and Tony’s lashes sat on his cheeks. Clint turned his head, catching Tony’s lips and clearly surprising the man because he went rigid, pulling back a little. “Sorry.”

It took him a moment, but then Tony kissed him back and started to bounce on his cock. Clint held him close, letting Tony’s hips move, but not much else. Clint’s hand reached around, clasping his fingers around Tony’s cock. He started to stroke and move up into Tony, knowing he was hitting the right spot when the guy started to shake and beg. Tony Stark was not quiet in bed. In fact, by the time he came, he’d been pleading with Clint to fuck him harder and harder. Even after he came, he urged Clint to keep going. “Come on… come on, Clint.” He wasn’t hurrying Clint, more encouraging. 

Clint finally came, collapsing against Tony’s back for awhile once he’d finished, panting on the guy’s shoulder. He pulled out slowly, flopping over on the couch as Tony shifted a little, trying not to get any more cum on the couch than he already had. Clint picked up his beer and had a pull, a stupid smile on his face. “Not bad, Stark.” Tony looked over at him, pausing as he just barely touched his hole. “You’re fuckin’ tight.” Clint clasped his hand on Stark’s shoulder and squeezed. “Gimmie a minute and I’ll get you a washcloth.” Tony ran his fingers over the back of Clint’s hand and nodded. 

They laid there quietly for a moment, Clint’s fingers running over the curve of Tony’s spine while Tony’s moved over Clint’s bicep and down his forearm. They weren’t looking at each other, just laying there catching their breath. Once that was accomplished, though Clint pulled Tony in for a quick kiss before he got up to get that washcloth. “Glad you came upstairs.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tony stood back, watching Clint shoot. He’d put in a range for him when he designed the Avengers rooms. Tony had come into the living area to get his tablet and Clint caught his eye. How could he not? He was shooting in a low slung pair of jeans and nothing else. Tony’s eyes traced Clint’s shoulder as he drew back. The tension built and Tony stared as Clint’s breathing slowed. Tony didn’t realize that he was holding his breath until Clint let the arrow fly and he didn’t have any breath to gasp in at the release. He did feel it, though. It was like the ‘thock’ of the arrow hitting the target was actually audible up here. 

He watched as Clint sunk arrow after arrow into the target, biceps tightening in a way that made Tony’s pants feel that much tighter too. He was really staring, and the fact that he was dumbfounded by Clint’s body was clear on his face. The problem was that as he realized that, Clint decided to change hands. Of course he’d practice both ways. What was worse was Clint clearly saw him. And he was clearly amused. Tony turned suddenly, almost slipping but coming up without spilling a drop of his scotch. He glanced back and saw that the spot Clint had been in was empty. “Shit. Shit… “ Tony hurried toward the door, but Clint was there within seconds. 

“Like what you see?” 

“Are we speaking in the general or in the specific because I’d really need to know that before I…” Clint had backed him into the wall, surprising Tony because he didn’t remember walking backward at all. Clint was also not actually touching him. He was just looming. 

“I saw you staring.”   
“I wasn’t staring, I was looking. I was admiring your… form. The way you shoot. It’s primitive, but… the accuracy it just doesn’t make sense and when I can’t make sense of things….”   
“You stare like you want to eat them,” Clint asked. Tony ducked out from under Clint’s arm and walked toward the bar. “Just so you know,” Clint said as a pebble from the nearby plant’s pot hit Tony in the back of the neck. Tony turned, about to speak. “It’s on the table. You were good. I’d fuck you again,” he reasoned. It felt strange to be slightly disappointed by that. Clint almost sounded like he was throwing Tony a bone and he didn’t like that. 

“Good? If I recall, you were hard as a rock, balls deep in me while you whimpered and groaned.” Tony crossed his arms firmly over his chest, challenging Clint.

“I don’t whimper.” 

“Yeah, well you did when you fucked me.” Tony stalked to the bar and poured himself a good measure of scotch. “And, by the way, smacking a guy’s ass and telling him he gives good head might not be the best way to end the night.” 

“You smiled,” Clint pointed out.

“Yes, but…”

“Butt, exactly,” Clint shot back as he joined Tony at the bar. He took Tony’s drink from him and had a good pull before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I know what you can do over the back of a couch, but I’d like to see what you’re capable of in bed.” He finished Tony’s drink and pressed it into the middle of his chest, clinking against the reactor. “Let me know when you’re ready.” Clint gave him a wink. The bastard winked at him, and then he turned around and left. Clint walked right out the door and down the hall to his room, closing the door behind him. 

“What the fuck?” Tony refilled his glass, taking half in a gulp then looking at himself in the mirror behind it. His guts were roiling and his blood pressure was up. He could feel the heat building in his groin and knew just what he _wanted_ to do. Tony finished the scotch then walked down the hall. He’d never been great at impulse control or even giving the impression that he wanted to control his impulses. Tony didn’t have to knock, Clint had left the door just barely cracked. He could hear the water running and felt his heart pound out of control at the prospect of Clint wet and naked. He took a deep breath and opened the door reminding himself that nothing good could come of this, but when had that ever stopped him before?


	4. Chapter 4

“Don’t knock yourself out,” Clint told Tony as his head snapped back and hit the wall. 

“Shut up,” Tony grabbed the back of Clint’s head and pushed him down, pushing his cock into Clint’s mouth roughly. It turned out that Clint Barton was good with his mouth. More than that, he had a special talent. Clint had clearly tried sword swallowing when he worked for a circus. Not only was he swallowing Tony down with no problem, Clint’s hands were all over his chest and thighs. Clint knew his way around a blowjob. 

“Tell me when you’re close.” Clint ran his tongue down the underside of Tony’s cock as he jerked him off. How the hell had this happened? Tony thought to Clint walking into the lab, finding Tony shit faced and morose. Clint had needled him until Tony swung. It went fast from there, Clint overpowering Tony then dropping to his knees. 

“Shut up… Jesus Christ, Clint.” Tony’s hands caught in Clint’s hair, pulling at him. “Stop talking and do something you’re good at.” Clint snorted but swallowed him down, clearly not insulted. It only took a couple more minutes before Tony was close. “Fuck…” Tony fell into a whole spiral of filthy words, using every bit of his vocabulary to tell the other man just how good he was at this. “Close.” Tony almost didn’t say it because it meant Clint was going to pull off. Tony didn’t blame him, a mouthful of cum wasn’t for everybody. 

Much to his surprise, Clint closed his eyes and swallowed Tony down when he came, pushing his cock back far enough that he wouldn’t taste much. Tony gripped Clint’s hair hard, fucking his mouth in erratic little shudders. Clint pulled back, looking up at Tony with a grin. Tony knew that grin probably wasn’t good. “Just give me a minute,” Tony asked as he went to slump down the wall. 

“Nope,” Clint stood up and in one move had Tony over his shoulder in a fireman carry. 

“The fuck?”

“You’re going to sleep.” Clint gave Tony’s bare ass a smack as he carried him to the bed in the lab. “See, you don’t even have to leave the lab. Just lie down for a little while.” While Tony didn’t exactly want to lie down, the bed _was_ awfully soft and the after effects of an orgasm could be a powerful thing. Tony didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until he smelled the coffee maker. 

“Mmmm Clint?” Tony rubbed his eyes. Damn his head was pounding and his mouth tasted like a week-old jock strap worn by a Sumo. 

“Sorry, no.” There was the gentle, even click of heels on tile. 

“Pepper. Sorry. I …”

“You thought I was your … “

“I thought you were Clint,” Tony interrupted. He wasn’t about to have Clint called ‘his’ in any way. Pepper didn’t mind, at least that’s what she said. Still, Tony sometimes felt strange talking about his playtime with her. That didn’t mean he didn’t, just that sometimes he felt weird about it. 

“I didn’t realize you two had plans.” She came over to perch on a counter near the bed. 

“We didn’t… I was working and he showed up. Jarvis, is Clint in the building?” Tony’s voice hurt, hell everything hurt. It was that kind of hangover. 

“Agent Barton is currently on assignment. He left no indication of how long he’d be gone.” Tony felt a pit in his stomach. “Would you like me to start tracking him down, Sir?” 

“Y….” 

“No, Jarvis. Thank you.” Pepper pressed the coffee into Tony’s hand. “If it’s a sensitive mission, you poking around could put him in danger. You’re just going to have to wait.” Pepper sat next to him on the bed, running her fingers through his totally screwed up hair. She pulled him in for a kiss, pressing her lips to his temple. “Now finish that coffee and take a shower. You smell like a distillery.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tony made sure he stayed busy because he _was not_ thinking about the fact that Clint had been gone for over two weeks and he had no clue where the man was. Pepper was right about not looking for him, and she reminded him of that at least twice a day as he contemplated searching for the man. It was just because they were a team, just because they were kinda friends. That’s what Tony told himself as he looked out onto the New York skyline. No one else was here, the team was scattered, and that was when this floor felt the most lonely. He came here pretty often, usually just walking through or stopping to check something in Bruce’s lab while the man was away. 

Right now, though, the place was dark. Only the running lights were on, which was enough to get around but not really see anything. He had no idea how long it had been, but at some point he ran out of scotch. So instead of chancing that happening again, Tony brought the bottle, a bucket of ice, and his tablet over to the window. He drug a chair right to the edge and climbed in. It looked almost like he was floating over the city. The tablet was at hand in case he had any ideas, not that that was happening much the past couple of weeks. 

He sat and drank for awhile, the bottle perched on the arm of the chair. As the lights of the city changed, he watched them though the bottle. He was so fascinated that he didn’t notice anything was up until a hand closed on his shoulder. “I could have killed you eight times by now.” While the sentiment might have been strange, Tony found himself overjoyed that the voice was Clint’s. He turned around with a smile, but it was short lived. 

“What the hell happened to your face?” The whole right side of Clint’s face was a mess of bruises and abrasions. 

“I told Nat I didn’t like her cooking,” Clint joked as he reached across and took the bottle of scotch. Tony watched as Clint pulled the cap then took a long pull from the bottle, eyes closing. And was that a wince? 

“Jarvis, get a doctor here for…”

“I’m fine. I’ve had way worse. Believe me.” Clint swished some scotch around in his mouth then swallowed. “You look drunk.”

“You look like shit,” Tony countered as he stood, moving over to get a better look at Clint’s face. “You need stitches,” Tony told him sharply as he looked at a nasty gash on Clint’s forehead. 

“You got any super glue?” Clint took another pull. “I just need to take the edge off before I patch myself up.” He shrugged. “And you just happen to have the most stocked liquor supply I’ve ever seen.” He tapped the mouth of the bottle against Tony’s arc reactor with a smirk. 

“You’re making me blush. Jarvis, bring up the the lights a little.” Neither of them would do well with the lights coming up all the way all of a sudden. “Did you hurt your back?” Clint was standing a little awkwardly. 

“I routinely draw 300 pounds on a weapon from the Paleolithic Era. My back hurts all the time.” Clint shrugged it off. Clint kept taking pulls off the scotch, clearly in a hell of a lot of pain. 

“I’ve got pills,” Tony pointed out. Clint just shook the bottle of scotch in response and started heading toward the medical suite. Tony followed, noticing that not only was Clint holding himself stiffly, he was limping just a little. “Jarvis, start the sauna with the detox protocol.” Clint glanced at him but didn’t say no. Instead, he went to the cabinet with the first aid kit and rummaged around for the glue. Clint was clearly old hand at patching himself up because Tony watched as he went through the paces with a certain fascination. 

“Are you just going to stare,” Clint asked as he caught Tony’s gaze in the mirror. As he waited for the glue to dry, Clint pulled off his jacket, tossing it over a chair before looking to his bicep. “What,” Clint asked with a smirk. “Never seen a guy who got clipped by a bullet bruise like produce?” The jacket would have deflected the strike, but Clint’s right arm still looked like it had been through some sort of farm equipment. He moved to unhook his quiver, stopping about halfway there, pain on his face. 

“Sit down you idiot.” Tony came over, carefully taking off Clint’s quiver and working the fastenings along the side of his tactical suit so it would be easier for the guy to move. “You’re sure you didn’t break a rib or anything? Jarvis, scan him.” 

“Jarvis, don’t scan me.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Agent Barton. Your appearance triggered a protocol as you are an Avenger and have clearly been injured. And, no Mr. Stark, Agent Barton hasn’t broken anything, but he does have several deep tissue bruises and strained tendons.” Clint looked annoyed, but Tony really couldn’t have been happier to know that he wasn’t broken. 

“Course of treatment?” Tony listened to Jarvis tell Clint to drink lots of water and take it easy, not to mention massage. “I have the best masseur. You’d love her. Well, there are three of them, actually.”

“Nah,” Clint shook his head as he checked over his teeth in the mirror. “I’m not going to keel over. It’ll heal.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Tony growled in frustration. “Why are you even here if you don’t want my help?” 

“Great question.” Clint held up the bottle. “Booze and a comfortable bed. My shit hole in Bed-Stuy is being fumigated.” Tony didn’t know how to take that. Part of him thought Clint was being totally above board and really was here for booze and a comfortable bed. But there was this haunted, sad look in Clint’s eyes that Tony couldn’t unsee. Instead of pushing him, Tony had Jarvis play some music and helped the guy get out of his tactical suit. He was even more of a mess under it than Tony thought he would be. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen people beaten up and in pain, but when it was someone he knew and cared about that made it way worse. Dum-E brought over a tumbler of green juice and Tony handed it off. “Drink it. I went through a lot of that in the early days when I was figuring out just how to best insulate the suit from attacks. It helps.” Clint took a big chug and gagged. “Tastes like shit, but it works.” Tony frowned at the angry, mottled red-purple bruises on Clint’s chest. “Come on.” Clint had caught a significant buzz and Tony’s total obliteration had mellowed into being toasty, so they were currently pretty well matched. “Sauna.” Booze and heat wasn’t a great mix, but Jarvis’ programming was pretty epic. 

Tony couldn’t help but think about how tired Clint looked right now. The sauna was a place Clint had been before, hell he’d walked in on Clint and Natasha both totally naked once, not doing anything but there naked enjoying the steam. Tony’s decision about wether or not to follow was made for him when Clint spoke. “You coming in,” Clint asked as he pushed his pants down, standing there in a pair of boxer briefs that made Tony’s mouth water. Now’s not the time, Tony reminded himself as Clint pushed those down and walked into the sauna with more swagger than he’d had just a minute ago. Clint knew that Tony was watching him and was clearly playing it up. Tony really didn’t have any choice with an ass like that, did he? He sighed deeply and stripped down to follow Clint in.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint felt like shit. His fucking eyelashes hurt right now. A mission that was supposed to be a quick in and out, 36 hour incursion turned into a hostage situation. He’d been kept underground and had the shit kicked out of him every couple of days because Clint kept trying to escape. Eventually he was able to manage an escape, and humped it out of the middle of the woods eight miles before he found a guy who gave him a ride to civilization. The whole time all he could think about was Tony. There were things he wanted to say when he was chained to the floor by his ankle, but now were getting harder to even think about the longer he was back. He rubbed the injury, his jeans riding up enough to show off the bruised, abraded skin. 

“Clint, what the hell is that?” He looked up from where he was sitting on the couch, brows knitted. “Jesus, it looks like someone tied you down.” Clint shrugged. “… Clint?” Tony sat down near him, clearly concerned but not entirely sure how to go about being a person about this. Tony struggled with that kind of stuff, so Clint tended to cut him some slack.

“It was a long trip,” was all Clint said before he leaned over to try to catch Tony’s lips. The man pulled back. “What?” 

“You look like you were beaten with sticks, you’re clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and your ankle looks like you were chained down the whole time you were…. Clint,” He looked away, but Tony caught him by the chin. Clint shook it off and got up, glad he wasn’t facing Tony when he did because his back was in knots. 

“Grabbing a beer. You want one.” He was on his way to the fridge when Tony grabbed his wrist. Clint looked down at him, annoyed but not saying anything. He really couldn’t, but Tony’s natural curiosity was getting the best of him. “I can’t talk about it, Tony. It’s classified.” That didn’t please him, but Tony let go of his wrist.

“I’ll take a green juice.” Frankly Clint was grateful that Tony let it, and Clint’s wrist, go. Clint ducked to the bathroom first, coming back out a few minutes later and grabbing the drinks. “You’re moving like an old man. Let me schedule you a massage or a doctor… transfusion… something. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Clint said as he clinked the neck of his beer bottle against Tony’s glass full of green juice. “And I don’t want a massage or a transfusion.” He leaned back into the couch and stretched his legs out with a groan. “Can we just sit here and not talk about that shit? How’s the project I pulled you out of the other day?” That was all Clint had to say for awhile because Tony started babbling technospeak about his project, most of it going over Clint’s head. Clint wasn’t a dumb guy, but Tony was really, REALLY smart. He didn’t care that he only understood every other sentence because it meant a.) he didn’t have to talk and b.) he could listen to Tony talk. Clint liked seeing the way Tony’s face lit up when he talked about his science.

At some point the pain killers Clint had taken in the bathroom kicked in and he started to drift. “Come on, big boy.” Clint’s eyes opened a little and he saw Tony holding his hands out. “You aren’t going to sleep out here.”

“Don’ wanna sleep,” Clint grumbled as Tony pulled on his arm. “Ow… ow,” he growled as his eyes opened a little more. He got up, though, letting Tony wrap his arm around his waist. Clint’s moved around his shoulder and he leaned heavily on the other man. “I should shoot. Haven’t shot in …” he was trying to think about it as they walked, well as he stumbled and Tony guided him. 

“Ok… sit.” Clint sat on the end of the bed as Tony knelt to pull off his shoes and socks. Tony’s fingers lingered at Clint’s ankle, stroking over the bruise softly. He was genuinely upset, Clint could see that on his face. That was weird to recognize in a guy like Tony. Tony might have an expressive face, but it was the eyes you had to really watch. “You want your pants off?”

“Do you want my pants off,” Clint joked. He closed his eyes a moment, swaying as he did. “I’m tired.” 

“Yeah, buddy. I know. Stand up for me.” Tony grunted as he helped Clint stand. “You’re heavy as hell.” 

Clint stood, swaying in place. “Did you just call me fat,” he slurred. 

“What the hell did you take?” Tony’s hands were at the button of his jeans, opening it. 

“Vicodin… a few of them.” And he’d been drinking before Tony got there. It was all mixing to take the pain away for awhile. 

“Moron.”

“Like you haven’t done worse.” Clint’s hand came up, stroking Tony’s facial hair. “Why’s it so soft? No one’s beard is that soft.” 

“Mine is,” Tony told him as he nodded to the bed. “Come on.” Clint looked down and realized that his jeans were on the floor. When did that happen? He blinked a few times and followed Tony around to the side of his bed. 

As he settled in, Clint looked at Tony, suddenly worried. “Stick around?” It was the most Clint could get out as far as asking Tony to stay. Tony didn’t say anything, just stripped down to a t-shirt and his underwear before climbing in next to Clint. Clint felt Tony move in close, an arm wrapping around his waist. Tony’s body cupped his from behind and Clint shivered as he felt Tony’s breath on the nape of his neck. “Talk.” 

Clint couldn’t have told you what he heard, what Tony told him or talked about. Instead, he focused on the sensation of Tony’s fingers curling around his hip and the outline of the arc reactor pressed into his back. Tony’s fingers moved over his shirt, but the man didn’t shy from pressing his lips to Clint’s shoulder or the nape of his neck just above the neckline of his t-shirt. Clint succumbed to sleep, feeling honestly safe for the first time in weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

At some point, Clint stopped going back to Bed Stuy. His apartment became deserted as he slowly brought his stuff over. Mostly, he stuck to the Avengers floor, but sometimes Tony would invite him up. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just show up, Tony wouldn’t care, but Clint didn’t do that because showing up in someone else’s space uninvited wasn’t cool in his book. He was reminded of that when he walked into his bedroom to find Natasha asleep in his bed. She looked small all curled up under the blankets, and Clint saw a streak of purple blue around her eye, so a shiner was in the future. “Hey,” she shifted and looked at him as she woke. 

“Rough day at the office?” She nodded as Clint came to sit with her, pulling her over closer so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t often, but when she did this kind of thing, Natasha really needed him. He didn’t say anything as he ran his hand down her arm a few times, just squeezing until she settled in against him. “Is there anyone we need to go kill tomorrow?” 

She snorted. “Nope, took care of that.” 

His fingers touched the very edge of the bruise around her eye, pulling back when she winced. “Sorry, sorry.” He frowned. “You take anything for it yet?” She shook her head again. “I’ve got some Vicodin but it’s in the bathroom.” Natasha just held onto him a little tighter so he got the message that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Alright. You want some music?” She did so Clint asked for some of her favorites to play. A few were ballets, but most of it was rock and a few guilty pleasures. Clint had put together a Nat Mix long ago. 

They sat for awhile, Clint just holding onto her as Natasha tried to reconcile whatever it was she was struggling with. She’d just settled in when there was a knock on the door. “It’s alright… probably just Stark.” Clint peeled himself away and Natasha slipped out the other side of the bed and ducked into his bathroom, clearly not wanting to be seen right now. “Hey,” Clint greeted. 

“Hey.” Tony glanced at the messed up bed then at Clint. “You tired? I thought we were going out tonight.” 

“Ah fuck, I forgot.” Clint glanced over Tony’s attire, a tight t-shirt that showed off his arms and jeans that showed off his ass. Natasha had better appreciate that he was blowing that off. “I meant to call you. S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff.” Technically it was true. “I’ve got real time analysis of a field op.” Everyone thought all he did was shoot arrows, but Clint used his mind and his keen skills of observation and excellent vision for a lot more than that. He might play a dummy a lot of the time, but now that he knew Tony better he didn’t feel like he needed that facade quite as much.

Tony’s eyes landed on the bed then shifted to the closed door of the bathroom. “S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff, huh?” He walked over, eyes falling on the bra Natasha had taken off before getting into bed. “You don’t have to lie, Clint. It’s not like we’re exclusive. If you’re fucking some chick, just say so.” 

Clint wasn’t about to give up Natasha when she was in such bad shape. “Yep, Maria’s in there getting cleaned up,” Clint joked. “Or was it Bobbi… Maybe I’ll ask them both over.” He came over and poked Tony in the side. “I’m not fucking anyone right now, and if you keep it up, I won’t be fucking anyone at all tonight.” 

Tony’s brows knitted together, miming hurt. “Fine, keep your dirty little secret. Just know that I don’t mind.” Tony might have been saying that he didn’t mind, but Clint felt like that was not what he really meant. Tony might fool around, but Pepper didn’t. Maybe he expected the same of Clint? Clint didn’t know if he wanted that or if he was even capable of that. 

“Yeah, well, when I’ve got something to tell you, I’ll tell you. For now,” Clint leaned in and grabbed Tony by the back of the neck. He pulled him in close and pressed their lips together roughly. It was a possessive kiss that screamed _I want you, but watch yourself._ Clint let Tony go only when he felt the man’s cock start to harden in his jeans. “I’ve got work to do.” Clint turned Tony around, gave him a slap on the ass and a shove out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

What the hell was going on with Clint? He was hiding away in his room for the second day and it was driving Tony nuts. Tony was a guy who was used to being paid attention to. People did not ignore Tony Stark, but Clint was doing just that. “How can you be jealous when you haven’t even told him how you feel?” Tony looked over his shoulder at Pepper. The woman was a saint and had been listening to him bitch for the past twenty minutes. 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“You absolutely are jealous,” she countered as she tucked her long legs up underneath her. “And that’s ok Tony.” He made a face and turned back to face the screen. He was working at the same time, but mostly he was just poking the screen with his eyes cast up toward the door of Clint’s room. He hadn’t come out yet today. “Just go talk to him.” 

“He’s clearly busy. Who knows what he’s got in bed.” Tony could feel the burn of bile roiling in his stomach. Maybe he was jealous. “How are you ok with this,” he pointed between himself and toward the door of Clint’s room. “I can’t even…” 

“Because I love you for who you are, Tony. I was never so deluded to think you’d be mine and only mine. So I make sure I get what I need from you as my partner and focus on making myself happy the rest of the time.” She sipped her orange juice, looking quite satisfied with herself. “You’re not my other half, Tony. You’re important and I love you, but we’re two separate people.” Pepper had said before how much she hated that whole ‘better half’ stuff. It implied you couldn’t stand on your own two feet and Pepper had a huge problem with that implication. 

“You’re a better person than I am.” Pepper said nothing, leaning up to kiss Tony when he came close, patting his hip. “I’m going to go talk to him.” Pepper nodded approvingly. “Not right now, but I will.” The approving nod turned to a tight lipped stare. “I have to finish …. Oh stop looking at me like that.” He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stare her down. She always won, though. “Can I finish my coffee?” Pepper kept staring. “Fine.” 

Tony swung past the kitchen and took the time to finish his coffee just to spite Pepper before he made what felt like the longest trip he’d ever started. Clint’s door felt very far away though he was there far, far too quick. He had a couple of breaths before knocking quietly, fully intending on leaving after a five count. At four and seven fifteenths, the door opened. His eyes had been up to meet Clint’s but had to drop about a foot to meet Natasha’s. Natasha, who was wearing Clint’s t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, looked like hell. “Clint’s in the shower.” That was all she said before walking back to bed and crawling in. 

He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disgusted with himself for being relieved. Though he had no doubt that Barton and Romanov did the horizontal mambo a couple of times, probably still did from time to time, they were best friends first. Why hadn’t Clint just told him that she was here last night? It was a question he fully intended on asking the man and headed right to the bathroom to get his answer. 

It turned out, though, that when he opened the door, Clint wasn’t just taking a shower. Tony watched him fist his cock a few times, leaned over against the wall. It was so fucking hot Tony just stared for a good minute. “In or out, you’re letting the steam out.” Tony jumped but stepped in, closing the door behind him. All thoughts of confronting Clint fled as he watched that strong hand work up and down. “Just gonna watch?” 

Tony didn’t have to be asked twice, stripping down fast and getting in behind Clint. “Put your leg up,” Tony urged before dropping to his knees. His hands ran down Clint’s broad back, thumbs tracing the wings of his shoulder blades. Tony’s mouth followed Clint’s spine and got a groan from the man that made Tony’s cock sit up and take notice. As his mouth ran over the rise of Clint’s ass, Tony ran his teeth over the firm muscles. Tony bit down for a moment before reaching to spread Clint’s cheeks wide. His tongue ran up and down the thin skin around his hole before the tip of his tongue ran around the pucker. 

Clint jumped, groaning deeply before settling down onto his heels. “You filthy beast,” Clint joked as he pushed back. Tony let him, closing his eyes and trying to just drown in the closeness. He’d thought about that rumpled bed and that discarded bra all night. He’d paced the floor, he’d woken Pepper up three times! The delight he felt in it not having been some fling was deep. Tony decided to pour his appreciation out by devouring Clint. He moved from hole to balls then back again, reaching around to tug the man in slow strokes. “Close,” Clint ground out as Tony’s tongue curved at the tip and flicked around his hole. HIs hand sped up and Tony heard Clint blow a few seconds later, Tony’s name on his lips. It all left Clint shuddering and dropping to his knees in front of Tony. Clint leaned heavily on him, lips barely touching his skin but making Tony crazy regardless. 

“You’re killing me, Barton.” Clint looked up with a dumb smile then pulled Tony in for a kiss. The man’s hand wrapped around Tony’s cock and roughly jerked him off, not needing very long at all. Tony’s head leaned in, pressing to Clint’s shoulder as he came. The blond ran his hand over Tony’s back, squeezing his ass and then back to the nape of his neck. “I was coming in here to yell at you about something.” He panted a little, smiling at Clint with swollen lips. 

“Probably about the redhead in my bedroom.” Clint nipped at Tony’s jaw, not being too careful at all. Tony liked that about Clint. Add to that the fact that Clint could throw him around a little and Tony was in heaven. “She had a rough night.” 

“You’re a good friend.” Clint just shrugged but Tony pushed it. “You wouldn’t have told me, would you?” Clint shook his head. “She’s lucky to have you.” 

“You’re damn right I am,” Natasha called through the bathroom door. “Now hose down the shower and get out. I need to wash blood out of my hair.”


	9. Chapter 9

Before Tony had been able to argue, Pepper invited both Natasha and Clint up for dinner that night. It was meant to be a casual get together, but you’d think it was negotiations for his company the way Tony was going back and forth between outfits. “Relax, it’s just dinner.” The worry was evident.

“What… I’m not…. fine, ok. Shut up,” he frowned at his t-shirt choices, deciding to toss them both aside in favor of a nice black sweater Pepper had suggested. “Clint and I don’t plan get togethers.”

“Dates,” she corrected.

“Shut up.” Tony’s nerves were pretty adorable and Pepper leaned in to kiss his temple. “Why did you invite them?”

“Because they’re our friends and they’ve both had a hard couple of weeks.” Her arm slung around Tony’s waist as he pulled in close, kissing her throat. “And it’s ok if you’re nervous, but it’s just the four of us having sushi and hanging out.” Tony was working on a big tumbler of scotch and Pepper picked it up, taking a belt from it. She winced a little bit but swallowed before leaning in to kiss him. It was soft and sweet, sort of teasing as they stood there. Her fingers ran up and down Tony’s back then to his arms. “Don’t get too drunk before they come,” she said softly before giving his ass a squeeze. “There’s a thin line between charming and belligerent.” 

He got dressed pretty quickly after that and then waited with her in the living room. He was plunking away at the piano, mostly just screwing around though he could actually play. The elevator dinged about ten minutes later and Tony all but jumped up and ran to the bar so his back would be to the elevator. Tony was acting like a teenager waiting for his prom date. Tony glanced up and caught a glimpse of Clint in the mirror behind the bar. Clint looked good. He actually looked really, really good. The dark gray t-shirt he was wearing pulled across his chest and Pepper could clearly count the muscles in his arms from across the room. No wonder Tony was tripping over himself. Natasha didn’t look too good, though. She had a little bit of a limp and a really nasty black eye. No wonder Clint had spent the night with her. 

“Hey guys… sushi will be out in about half an hour, but we’ve got some tempura and edamame. Anyone want a drink?” Pepper stood and played the good hostess, getting both Clint and Natasha a couple of Japanese beers while Tony stuck by the bar acting weird. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever eaten with Clint before. Hell, she’d seen them spend the better part of the day together. Was it really the pre-planned nature of the whole thing? She was going to have to work on that with Tony. Pepper watched Clint approach Tony, leaning against the bar close but not touching Tony. He vibrated anxiety and it wasn’t until Clint finally bridged the gap by brushing his fingers over Tony’s bicep that the bomb that was Tony seemed to defuse. 

He’d warned Pepper about Natasha looking rough, but Pepper hadn’t really anticipated just how rough. Natasha looked like she’d had a hell of a time, and Pepper hoped this wasn’t pushing herself too much. “Secrets don’t make friends,” Natasha told the boys as she sat down on the sofa, picking up some tempura. “Come sit down.” Clint nodded and let Tony go ahead of him, sitting on the same couch but not too close. “Leaving room for the Holy Spirit,” Natasha asked with a smirk. Pepper saw Clint flip her off but no one said anything, they just munched on tempura and sipped drinks while Tony babbled about the newest piece of tech he was working on. Normally Pepper at least half listened to that stuff, but right now she was more interested in the way Clint was looking at Tony. 

It wasn’t any secret that Clint didn’t have a lot of formal education. With his upbringing, Pepper would have been shocked if he had even finished high school. Yet there he was, listening intently and asking questions that were pretty complex given the subject. Pepper had never thought Clint was dumb, and she knew he was incredibly talented and hard working, but this was something she hadn’t imagined. Good on him, she thought as she watched Natasha shift uncomfortably on the seat next to her. “Muscles?” 

Natasha nodded. Pepper stood up and walked to the bar, poking finger onto the glass in front of a small safe. It popped open and she flipped through a couple of bottles before coming across one for a very good pain killer that Tony swore by in the early days of the suit when he was getting the padding right. “It’s either these or alcohol, though,” Pepper told her when she came back with the bottle. “They’re heavy duty.” Clint snorted and Pepper looked over, “what? They are.”

Clint nodded to Natasha who already had the bottle open and two of the pills in her palm. She tossed them in her mouth and took them with a long pull on her vodka. As a matter of fact, she drained it before handing the glass over to Pepper with a wink. “Yeah, but she’s Russian.”


	10. Chapter 10

Something that both surprised and shocked Tony was how well Clint could sing. At some point between lobster rolls and green tea martinis, Pepper had put on some background music. He watched as Clint sang goofily to Natasha who's looped on pain pills. “… and you can tell everybody… this … is your song….” She leaned in against him, running her hand over his forearm as he sang. Things got quiet, everyone just listening as Clint sang. 

“Clint,” Pepper commented, “did you know that Tony plays piano?” 

“No, I didn’t.” Clint gave Tony a smile that started something burning low in his guts. “You take that and Swahili at rich kid school?” Clint was kidding and Tony just rolled his eyes. “Show us.” 

“Nah. No point.” 

“Of course there’s a point,” Natasha said annoyed. “He wants to hear you play. So skip the false modesty, it doesn’t suit you.” She threw an ice cube at Tony and he dodged because she really lobbed it. The first one was predictable, but what surprised him was the ice cube Clint slipped under his collar. He hopped up and Clint gave Tony a push toward the piano. “What are you going to play?” 

Tony sighed and headed to the piano, sitting down and opening the lid over the keys. “What do you want to hear?” 

“Do you know New York State of Mind?” Clint immediately groaned at Natasha’s suggestion, but Tony did know the song and was pretty damn good at the song. “Play it. Clint does an incredible version of it. You two can perform for us. Go on, Barton.” 

“I’m not your dancing monkey, Natasha.” But Clint was getting up, proving that he really was closer to her dancing monkey than a man who’d pick a fight with her over something as trivial as singing a song. Tony started the song, watching as Clint took a deep pull from his whisky before he started to sing. If he’d been good when he was singing quietly, letting him get some volume only helped. Tony actually missed a beat because he was so surprised. Clint caught his eye, though, and he got right back to it, realizing that he was very much accompanying Clint and not the other way around. Tony let Clint lead and watched as his eyes drifted shut. Long, blond eyelashes sat on his cheeks and Tony wondered if Clint knew how beautiful they were. He was disgusted with his own thoughts, but couldn’t stop looking as Clint sang. 

The song ended and the women started to make requests, going back and forth between songs Tony knew and ones Clint knew to see where the overlap was. It turned out there was a hell of a lot of overlap. The rest of the night went like that, singing and drinking until Tony noticed Pepper drifting off. Natasha had gone pretty quiet awhile ago, in a soft place dulled by pain killers no doubt. Clint nodded toward the windows and headed over, clearly wanting Tony to follow. They sat on another couch together, close enough so their voices could stay just between the two of them. “I had no idea you could sing.”

“I had no idea you could play the piano,” Clint countered. Tony felt Clint’s hand close over his and bit his lip as Clint’s calloused fingers turned Tony’s hand palm-up. “I mean… I know how talented your hands are, but I think it’s cool that you play. You learn for a chick?” 

“… kind of,” Tony said breathlessly. Clint’s fingertips were running across his palm then down to his wrist in a lazy pattern. “My mother taught me.” And then, for the first time in a long time, Tony talked about his parents. Later on he could call it a drunken confession if he needed to save face, but he really did want to talk to Clint about how she’d been incredibly patient and sat with him every day until he went away to MIT. “I wish I’d kept going when I moved to California.” Clint listened attentively, fingers constantly stroking over Tony’s skin. He went no farther than from his fingertips to halfway up his forearm, but Tony was electrified by it. 

It was that way for a few hours, long past the point where Natasha and Pepper had left and gone to sleep themselves. The sun came up and the city started to move as Tony and Clint talked quietly about some of the most difficult topics imaginable. Clint gave Tony a little more background on his childhood, and Tony talked about his time as a captive. Knowing the levels of hell they’d both been through somehow helped Tony hold onto Clint’s hand a little longer. Tony started to drift sometime after Clint had pulled him in close so Tony could rest his cheek on Clint’s chest. He was in and out for a bit, but remembered being woken up long enough to walk to the nearest bedroom, Tony’s. 

Clint knelt in front of him and took off Tony’s shoes and socks. Normally he’d have cracked some dirty joke, but instead he ran his fingers through Clint’s thick, soft hair. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to anyone like he and Clint had talked tonight. He cupped Clint’s face in his palm and Clint looked up at him, brows knitted together. “You’re staying, right?” 

Clint’s expression changed, he smiled and turned his lips to graze the inside of Tony’s palm. “The thought of leaving hadn’t crossed my mind.” Tony’s relief must have been palpable and Clint stood, his hands moving to Tony’s belt knowingly. “I was nervous to come up here. I mean… we don’t do arranged stuff.”

Tony nodded emphatically. “Exactly.” 

“… maybe we should.” Clint took Tony’s pants off and made him sit on the bed while he pulled off Tony’s sweater. He was more than capable of undressing himself, but Clint was doing such a good job that he wasn’t about to stop the guy. 

“Clint,” Tony cocked his head to the side. “Are you asking me out?” 

Clint just smirked and pulled off Tony’s t-shirt and tossed it to the floor. “Be a good boy and get under the covers and maybe I’ll let you pick where we go for dinner.”


End file.
